


But My Eyes Still See

by QueenHarleyQuinn



Category: Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oblivious, Period Typical Attitudes, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 13:08:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenHarleyQuinn/pseuds/QueenHarleyQuinn
Summary: Cliff is usually the observant one between the two of them, obviously. Rick’s a fucking mess most of the time, God bless him for it. All the emotion and tension and nerves feeding into his more recent roles, that’s for sure.But you’d be shit out of luck to rely on him to know what day it is or where he left his lighter. Rick is occupied by his lines and his drinks and Cliff takes care of the rest. That’s always been the deal.





	But My Eyes Still See

Cliff is usually the observant one between the two of them, obviously. Rick’s a fucking mess most of the time, God bless him for it. All the emotion and tension and nerves feeding into his more recent roles, that’s for sure.

But you’d be shit out of luck to rely on him to know what _day_ it is or where he left his lighter. Rick is occupied by his lines and his drinks and Cliff takes care of the rest. That’s always been the deal.

Being the more observant half of a pair of idiots isn’t all that impressive anyway. Especially when the observant half is the one who initially mistook a break in for a drug trip.

God, he still gets a wild and stressful feeling in his gut whenever he thinks about how he held his fingers in the air like a pistol as he pointed at Tex. Fuck, that was dumb.

And kind of fun, honestly. Cliff smiles about too, from time to time.

At the end of the day though, it doesn’t really matter; they’re both very stupid and blind, it would turn out. Cliff and Rick. Rick and Cliff. The two of them.

They live together now. It’s just cheaper and easier and it made sense when Cliff was recuperating. Rick and Cliff never really talked about what would happen after Cliff was able bodied again - nothing outside of filming schedules and stunt work, anyway. But they never really talked about him moving out either. So around the same time Cliff got the okay from the doctor to start working again he sold his trailer and half the shit in it. He liked being on his own but he liked being up in the hills with Rick just as much.

Too bad neither of them thought to inform Francesca about this little plan. She must of felt like it was a real bait and switch when Cliff left for the doctor one day and came back a week later with a half dozen boxes. 

And funny enough, Francesca, a woman who could barely read or speak English, finds out about Cliff’s wife and the boat. Lord knows how, but she did. It changed the way she looked at Cliff - no longer in the eyes but instead directly at his hands, especially if he ever picked up a hammer or a drill to do some household chore. Like his fingers were still coated in blood or something.

Probably didn’t help that she saw Cliff redecorate the living room with bits of hippie skull. Blood and tissue sprayed over the carpet and phone and fireplace mantle. 

She left. Cliff knew it would happen but that gives him  _ little _ merit towards his observation skills. Anyone could see that marriage would fail - except Rick, obviously. Call Cliff old fashioned but maybe man and wife should be able to speak the same language. 

Rick falls apart over it and that’s easy to see coming too. Anyone who spends two minutes with Rick can tell he’s one step away from a breakdown at all times. Fuckin’ actors.

Nah. All that stuff is kindergarten shit, something anyone can notice. What makes Cliff so damn observant is what he sees one late afternoon when Sharon invites the two of them to a barbecue. 

She’s a doll, a real fucking doll, smiling as the nanny slips her son into her arms. Smiling as she turns to Cliff - who has somehow been roped into grilling even though he’s supposed to be a guest, but really he doesn’t mind. She just turns with these bright, knowing eyes and says, “Cliff, this is Maya, our nanny. Maya this is Rick’s stuntman.”

It’s the way Cliff’s been introduced to people for about the past decade, and it’s always done well for him. Cliff turns for a moment and flashes a smile at the small, young thing in front of him. Not a day past twenty. Dark hair and eyes and tan skin. She smells like coconut oil and baby powder. She blushes and Cliff rounds down to nineteen. Maybe nineteen and a half.

And all at once he’s reminded of Pussycat and that car ride. He has never, would  _ never,  _ make time with a teenage girl. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen - doesn’t fucking matter, he’s a man. And this one might be an adult but _barely_, and that’s not enough for Cliff. 

Despite that, he’s becoming an  _ old _ man. A little flirting never hurt no one, and it’s nice to know he’s still got it.

“Nice to meet you Maya,” Is all Cliff says before Rick is at his side, damn near up his ass.

“H-hey buddy, I really hate to ask but I think I-I misplaced my sunglasses, you seen them?”

“I don’t believe you brought any,” Cliff says, flipping burgers over and not pointing out how the sun is setting. 

“Shit, could you - could you run and grab them? I-I feel a headache coming on. It’d be a real help.”

Sharon sways with her son already sleeping in her arms, “Oh, Jay probably has some you can borrow.”

Rick shakes his head, “I appreciate that, but m-mine are prescriptions. Helps keep away migraines”

And that’s a big fucking lie. Ain’t no doctor ordered sunglasses in Rick’s house. But Cliff doesn’t argue about it, just pockets that tidbit as he looks around at the assortment of people at this barbecue. “I’ll grab ‘em if someone can man the grill for a minute.”

“I’ll keep an eye on this,” Rick says, gesturing to the grill. The man hasn’t cooked a thing in all the years Cliff’s known him. No time like the present to learn, Cliff guesses.

“You watching them is worse than me leaving them alone,” Cliff laughs, passing him the spatula, “Just don’t let anything burn. I’ll be back soon.”

With these imaginary sunglasses.

And Maya, sweetheart that she is, takes a half step forward like she’s going to help search for these fine, prescription sunglasses, when Rick tenses.

Stiff muscles under silk shirt. Barely pinched brows kept at bay by a weak smile.

That’s what makes Cliff so fucking observant. He sees every bit of that jealous reaction before it gets bottled away.

God forbid a girl be after Cliff and not Rick. It’s never bothered Cliff because he does just fine getting laid on his own but it’s downright silly at this point. Rick gets first claim on everything between the two of them, he should know that he doesn’t need to shove Cliff out of the way every time a pair of tits walk up.

Seriously, one of them is an actor and the other is a glorified handyman. It’s not a competition. And Cliff would let him have what ever he wanted anyway.

“Say, Mia-”

“Maya,” She corrects politely, fluttering thick lashes his way. In some ways she looks a little like Francesca - the slight stature, the dark features. This one speaks English though, so that’s already a win.

Rick smiles that old-school, boyish smile. The kind that’s going to offer to buy you a shake at the malt shop. Cliff wonders if that kind of thing would even register with a girl her age. 

“Pardon me, Maya,” he says, still not getting it quite right, but Cliff’s already going around the house and can’t tease him for it. He can, however, still eavesdrop. “Would you happen to know anything about grilling?”

Cliff shakes his head and grins to himself. Ain’t no chick in that backyard who knows shit about grilling.

But somehow she’s going to find it endearing. Especially when Rick flashes those big, earnest eyes that make you feel like something otherworldly. Celestial. Not just that you hung the moon, but that you  _ are _ it.

It surprises him when Rick goes after those brunettes. Cliff’s always pictured him with a blonde, maybe someone like Sharon - not that Cliff does a _lot_ of picturing Rick with anyone. And not that would stand a chance with Sharon since she’s just popped one out.

But still. She’s pure gold, that one. Shiny and bright. So much kindness and ease. Rick could use some of that; someone to unwind him just a little.

Cliff hops the fence dividing the Polanski driveway from Rick’s place. He skids down a bit of hill before landing in the backyard, kicking up some dust and dirt. He smiles. He’s still got that, too.

It takes three minutes to locate a pair of sunglasses, buried under piles of clothes and scripts and other bullshit. Only halfway over the fence and onto the Polanski side does Cliff realize that it’s an old pair of _his_ sunglasses, not Rick’s. When he lands, two feet firmly on the driveway, he decides it really doesn’t matter.

They’re two men living together, there’s bound to be some overlap.

He’s tossing them in the air lazily as he walks. Rick rounds the corner from the side yard just as Cliff’s about to pass one of the cars parked haphazardly. Rick smiles at him as he approaches, “Thought I was going to have to buzz you in. Should have figured you’d hop the fence.” He chuckles, cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Thought you were watching the food?” Cliff says, offering the sunglasses.

“Maya’s got it,” Rick shrugs before sliding them onto his face. They suit him.

“No kidding?”

Rick lifts his shoulders again, “Her father taught her.”

“No kidding,” Cliff laughs. God bless these progressive women.

The evening winds down as the sky shifts from blue to purple to indigo. Several groups came and went, until the party dwindled to just a few neighbors. All the burgers and ribs and steaks have been eaten or given away in doggy bags - and that includes the literal doggy bag for Brandy, filled with meat and bones. Everyone in this town spoils her rotten.

They move inside for drinks and joints, but Cliff just sticks to cigarettes. Experimenting with drugs again feels a little too much like an invitation for trouble. And he likes trouble, at least a little bit, he just doesn’t like it in the company of a baby and new mother.

Rick gets bullied into running lines with Sharon from a play she really likes, some Tenessee Williams thing. Typical actors, grouped together on the floor and couch. Always wanting to perform. They try to get Cliff in on it but he shakes his head and then the doggy bag and says he should probably get going to feed Brandy.

“We’ll walk you out,” Maya says, cradling the baby. “I’m about to take him for a drive around the hills. Helps the little man fall asleep.”

Cliff grins, chews the inside of his cheek as he nods toward the door. They haven’t had a single second together despite Sharon’s best efforts. He’s not exactly sure why she’s pushing them together other than because she remembers what it's like to be that age and sees how Maya keeps flashing those doe eyes his way.

And Cliff’s not sure what it is about  _ him _ but he seems to always attract those  _ I need a father figure _ types despite his best efforts.

He’s not going to give this girl a ride, he’s simply not. Especially after Pussycat. That what Cliff tells himself as they slip out.

They’re chatting about nothing really besides the weather and the fact that they can hear Brandy pacing in the yard next door. The sky is endless and starry when the door opens and foot steps run after them. 

It’s Rick. Cliff doesn’t even need to turn around to know that. He didn’t even realize he could identify Rick running by just the sound of his scuffling leather boots until this very moment. Just another of many observations. Yet another would be that Rick’s been on all day him like white on rice.

“Rick,” Cliff greets without turning around.

Maya only looks half disappointed that Rick is third wheeling this moment. He’s still Rick Dalton, of course the girl is going to be a little excited.

“Forgot my, my keys in the house, f-figured I’d head down with you two.”

They’re in his interior coat pocket, right side. Rick was twirling them around his finger earlier. He always puts them in his breast pocket and Cliff’s willing to bet that Rick can feel them poking against his chest right now. So there’s another lie and observation.

Cliff just nods, “I’m sure they’re around.”

They walk Maya to her car, watch as she settles the baby into a basket in the front seat. Cliff’s half surprised that Rick didn’t offer to take Maya and the baby for a spin in the Cadillac, even despite his revoked license. But, on the other hand, it’s probably a good call based on the whiskey sours and weed and general fact that even with a license Rick is a shit driver. 

No, they just wave her off as she drives by them. The rumble of the engine already putting the baby to sleep.

And then they continue their descent down the driveway and back home.

“Brandy, baby, you gotta give me a minute,” Cliff says, as she bolts toward him and her food bowl. She’s always been a good dog but she’s been down right needy since the attack, not that Cliff blames her. But still, he can only get the food out of the can if she’s not bumping her head against his leg every five seconds. “Go sit while I do this. And no complaining.”

She runs over to the couch and plops down next to Rick as he drinks his beer. Which must mean they're out of liquor. And Cliff decides he might as well get this figured out now, “You find those house keys?”

“Huh? Oh, oh yeah. Jacket pocket.”

Cliff pops off the top of the canned food, “And how’d those prescription sunglasses work out for you?”

Wet dog food plops into the bowl. Cliff tosses the steak scraps on top of it and waits for Rick to form an answer. He whistles for Brandy and she leaps off the couch and over to her bowl.

Rick’s eyebrows shoot up in the guiltiest fucking look Cliff’s ever seen. “Oh, I-I uh...Well-” And then he’s sunset pink as he stumbles through his sentence.

All that fluster and worry stirs a laugh from Cliff, “Relax, man, I’m just giving you a hard time.”

Rick exhales, relieved, before scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck you! I pay you too much for this shit.” But he’s laughing through it too. Even when Rick couldn’t pay Cliff at all that was his favorite line to use.

But they’re both starting to make money again for the first time in a while thanks to Saint Sharon next door recommending them to anyone who will listen, including her husband. Plus being local heroes goes a long way. Rick gets stopped for autographs more now than he ever did in his  _ Bounty Law _ days. 

“No, I saw you with that Maya girl. I knew what you were doing.” Cliff waggles his brows as he settles into the armchair across from the television. He fishes out his pack of cigarettes and lighter, “Careful though; the young ones can be crazy.”

Cliff lights up, the flame from his zippo glowing in the dim light of the room. He takes a puff and looks over at Rick who looks positively baffled. “What?” Cliff asks around a mouthful of cigarette.

“I-I am  _ not _ after Maya.” Rick says, almost diffident if he didn’t also sound the smallest bit insulted. “She’s sweet but...but-”

Cliff nods, understanding, “Yeah, I get it pal.”

He doesn’t, not completely - His wife was his last steady relationship which was like calling the Titanic a steady ship. After she and Cliff separated, Cliff couldn’t  _ wait _ to screw someone else. To jump into the next thing and be rid of her completely. Moping and mourning wasn’t in his personality, not over someone like her. 

But it made sense for Rick. He was sensitive to a fault - a fucking crybaby at times. And Cliff wouldn’t want him any other way, truly. Of course it makes sense that Rick would want to take time before getting with the next girl.

Still, that leaves Cliff wondering why Rick was so damn antsy and possessive all day. Is it that time of the month or what?

But he doesn’t bring it up. He just taps out his cigarette as Rick flips through the television channels and throws back the rest of his beer. Cliff’s observant, he’s sure he’ll figure it out eventually.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally can't stop thinking about this movie and I've read pretty much every fic for their pairing so here we are *shrugs*. Please kudos and comment because I need people to gush over these two with (and I, like Rick Dalton, am a hoe for validation).


End file.
